The scene: a birthday party.
Your character: the guest of honor.
The action: opening a highly undesirable present.
The assignment: write a few lines of dialogue in response to said undesirable present.
First, as this guy:
Then, as this fine lady:
Finally, as one of these guys:
Earlier this month I received an e-mail from writer/producer Ian Daffern of Vepo Studios in Toronto. He wanted to know if the following was awesome:
I replied that it is, indeed, awesome. After all, who can resist a book trailer that has
I’m looking forward to reading Stripmalling. I will also be keeping an eye on Vepo Studios, a new outfit that’s specializing in Web video for the arts community and for publishing in particular.
My hope is that they find more clients who are willing to take risks. In the wake of the fallout from the “New Think for Old Publishers” panel at this year’s South by Southwest, I’ve been thinking that, when it comes to technology, it might be too late for book publishing to play catch-up.
We need the book business to start leading. I’d love to see publishing develop a Silicon Valley mentality, with start-ups like Vepo Studios taking big risks and pushing the bigger companies to innovate.
So nice job on The Way of the Smock, Vepo. Keep it up and keep pushing the form even further.
A reader writes:
Help! I have ten paper children and a series of WIP’s that seem to be multiplying behind my back. I can’t stop writing, it’s like crack. I only know writing. I would like to know a literary agent, a publisher, a marketing genius, and perhaps even an author who could steer me in the right direction….oh wait…might that…be you?
If so… Should I have an authors website? It seems a bit presumptuous. I have a blog, I’m not sure anyone reads this blog but it does exist. I write literary fiction and women’s fiction (let’s call a spade a spade, it’s chick lit). I have three partials out and one outstanding query. This past summer I sent (no joke) near 100 query’s. I attended last years BEA and met amazing literary agents all of who requested and rejected partials.
Oddly enough, I’m still not convinced I’m a bad writer. Perhaps I can send you the first page of say, three or four of my novels and maybe you can tell me whether or not I should be watching more TV?
Any help is invaluable as you are the only person (sans a Deity) I am looking to for advice.
First, some light scolding.
If I were still a literary agent, I probably would’ve stopped reading after the first sentence. I have no idea what “ten paper children and a series of WIP’s” means. In the cold, cruel world of publishing, if you can’t be clear in your first sentence, you’re done.
Fortunately, I’m here to help and not to keep gates.
I had an e-mail exchange with the author in which I learned that she has written ten books. Four aren’t marketable. Four are stand-alone novels. The remaining two are part of a “chick lit” series.
Much better. But there is still way too much going on here.
Think of your first book as a small business. You want to start up this little company called Someday I’ll Be Great, Inc. or Everything I’ ve Ever Hoped For, LLC.
Now imagine going to the bank for a loan. You’re not going to tell them you want money for a car wash . . . or maybe a hair salon . . . on second thought, make that a children’s photography studio . . . no, that’s not it . . . how about an organic apple orchard?
Agents are the same way. You may end up getting a multi-book deal, but generally it’s the one book that gets you in the door.
Furthermore, that one book (or any book for that matter) has a very long life cycle. It takes time to sell, time to edit, time to promote in hardcover, time to promote in paperback, time to continue to promote in paperback. (They are, indeed, paper children.)
What is that one book for you? I do not know, my friend. But it is one book. Make your choice, hunker down and get ready to work it to death. (At least, until you write the next one.)
Some days I work very hard to help you be more awesome. Other days the Internet does it for me.
Essential Reading:
Thanks to Lars for directing me to the Mystery Man on Film. He has an exquisite post about the leaked transcript of the first Raiders of the Lost Ark story conference.
In addition to his analysis, he provides a link to the transcript. If you care about telling stories, then you must download that transcript.
Essential Reading + Barfing:
When does a blog merit the attention of HarperStudio, one of the coolest, most forward-thinking imprints in publishing? When it’s clean, simple and has pictures of this:
White Castle Casserole from vulturedroppings.com
Congratulations to This Is Why You’re Fat on the book deal. My goodness it can happen fast.
Not Essential (but Interesting) Viewing:
I stumbled across this video while looking for something else on Kotaku and I can’t stop thinking about it:
It’s likely done by professionals. It’s likely part of a viral marketing campaign for a video game or a movie. It’s likely that I’m going to be disappointed when I get the “reveal.”
But it’s just homemade enough to feel like maybe somebody did it just for the hell of it. A college student. A fan. A suburban mom with three kids.
Okay, probably not the last one, but in five years, who knows? Every day it gets easier to make stuff. Every day the bar gets raised a little higher on “amateur.”
Paul Lukas's Tournament of Meat
Thanks to Eric for sending this gem from sportswriter Paul Lukas, who has been kind enough to put together a NCAA-style tournament bracket . . . of meat.
It’s a great piece, but in light of Mark Reiter and Richard Sandomir’s recent book THE ENLIGHTENED BRACKETOLOGIST it also brings up an interesting issue in terms of competitive works.
Personally, I expected a nod to Reiter and Sandomir’s book in the end note, even though I know it’s not customary for the author of an article to pimp someone else’s work. [ed. note: See below for an IMPORTANT UPDATE on this paragraph.]
Then again, maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe the mock bracket (like the mockumentary or fake news) isn’t ownable. It’s an obscure form, but it’s still a form. As such, it belongs to everyone and what matters is what you do with it.
Judging from the comments so far, no one seems to care. They are simply enjoying arguing about meat and making jokes about vegetarianism.
Perhaps that is the ultimate lesson. Only a portion of your audience cares about the provenance of your work. The question then becomes whether or not that part of your audience is
1. Large
2. Influential
3. Important to your personally for whatever reason.
Final thought: I’m not in any way calling Lukas out. I’m a huge fan of his work and find him thoughtful, funny and original. Lukas’s Uniwatch blog is a model for spinning obsession into gold. Study it well.
IMPORTANT UPDATE:
If you click on the comments you’ll see a note from Paul Lukas, who contacted me to inform me that he was unfamiliar with THE ENLIGHTENED BRACKETOLOGIST.
Upon reviewing my post, I realized that I had unfairly assumed that Lukas was aware of the book and that, despite my disclaimer, I was sounding accusatory.
The original paragraph read that I “would have appreciated” a mention of the TEB. I have since changed that to “expected.” I also removed an aside about how it wouldn’t have killed Lukas or ESPN to mention the book. That wasn’t fair.
In short, apologies to Lukas. As I mentioned in an e-mail to him, if I were doing this piece for a magazine I would have called him to find out what he did or didn’t know. Just because this is the Internet doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have similar standards.
A DCWYTBMA reader alerted me to new web serial called SPARKS. The show is about a self-described “technologist” who lives in New York and helps people manage their emotional relationships with their computers. Think of her as a kind of tech whisperer.
SPARKS is the creation of filmmakers Annie Howell and Lisa Robinson. In an attempt to shine a light on their work (and to help further promote general awesomeness) I recently sat down (via e-mail) with Annie and Lisa and had this exchange:
1. In Episode Two, Sarah offers this comment about a misbehaving computer. “Don’t blame the technology,” she says. “We’re the ones who have to get our acts together.” When it comes to technology, do the two of you have your acts together?
AH: I personally do NOT have my act together. I’ll vouch here for Lisa (she is the tech savvy half of this duo) I’m the inspiration for those who need Sarah Sparks. My own tech frustrations include distinguishing between remote controls, locating any control panel on any menu anywhere, and managing RSS feeds.
LR: For someone in the arts I’ve always laid claim to a techy geek edge. I was the one boldly rewiring the computers in the editing lab or getting excited about camera optics. However, I am occasionally stumped by disagreeable technology and want to give it all a good kick and that’s when my really techy geek husband who actually deals with this stuff on a daily basis makes me feel like I also need to get my act together.
2. One of things I like about SPARKS is the tone and the pace. Unlike a lot of comedy on the web, your episodes take their time and let the humor unfold naturally. Talk about the benefits of this choice. Conversely, do you worry about the short attention spans’ of potential viewers?
AH: When we conceived the series, we wanted to offer a different sort of comic and aesthetic experience for the web; to experiment and go in a direction away from the slap stick or gross-out content that currently dominates the internet. We also wanted to pay close attention to the frame, as small as it might be. The benefits are simply about exploration and the fun of finding out if it works! Is it too slow for some? I’m sure it is, but I think there’s an audience for it.
LR: Yes, we discussed this and we knew we were doing something a little unusual. As in it might not be in-your-face aggressive enough like a lot of YouTube stuff out there. But both of us are interested in gentler humor so we thought, why not? Let’s just give it a try.
3. As independents, you have total freedom. But you’re also carrying the success of your series on your backs. What have you learned from the experience of spreading the word about SPARKS? Do you look at the Web differently now that you’re a producer as opposed to a consumer?
LR: I think we’re still learning one day at a time. We love the independence but we’d also love some financial support at some point. The web is such a useful tool. Things like Facebook take on new meaning as a way to spread the word.
4. Finally, what are your thoughts on awesomeness and/or being more awesome? How might Sarah answer that question?
AH: Sarah would say the potential for awesomeness is in you and technology everywhere! The more we befriend and understand technology the more it can do to improve our lives and possibly do something ultra-awesome like help save our planet.
A reader writes:
We probably all have a million ideas for things we could write or produce. How do we know which ones are worthy of our time and attention?
I used to write down every idea. I carried around an Ampad Reporter’s Notebook (Gregg ruled, please!) that I special ordered from a business supply company in St. Paul.
In my idea-hoarding prime, I might go through two or three pads a month. I wrote down everything:
Then, about three years ago, I stopped.
It wasn’t because the ideas were as absurd, vague or grandiose as the above. The reason I stopped was because I was getting much better at having ideas than I was at executing them. I had a storage closet filled with boxes filled with notebooks filled with ideas, but I wasn’t writing or publishing any more than I did when I first started my career.
Now when I have an idea I do the following:
1. Enjoy it
Ideas feel good. They make me smile and feel smart. Good for me.
2. See if the idea can be re-purposed to fit into an existing project
As writers and artists we tend to circle around and inhabit certain themes. Often a new idea isn’t new at all, but rather another way of getting at something you’re already working on. See what happens when you start thinking about ideas not as “new” but as part of an ever-forming whole.
3. If it doesn’t fit, then I say goodbye
I have three books in various stages of completion and precious little time to work on them. It’s a shame to throw out a perfectly good idea or insight, but these books need my help, not my divided attention.
4. If it comes back and it’s genuinely a new idea, then I ask myself if I really want to do the work
I recently had an idea to do a piece on Arnold Schwarzenegger. The Running Man was on cable and I thought, “Look how far this guy has come. And yet he’s still a punchline. Maybe it’s time for a reappraisal.”
But do I really want to do the work it would take to write that story? Do I really want to try to get access? Or watch all of his old movies? Or become well-versed enough in California state politics?
The answer, sadly, is no.
5. If the idea comes back again, and still can’t be re-purposed, then I have no choice but to work on it
[Sighs] All right. If you insist. But you better be worth it . . . .
One of my students alerted me to a legendary piece of bad writing called “The Eye of Argon” by Jim Theis. TEOA is so bad that people get together, read it aloud, and try to see how far into the story they can get without laughing. (It’s called “competitive reading.” Here are the rules.)
Here’s a taste:
The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome cargoes of their struggling overseers.
“Prepare to embrace your creators in the stygian haunts of hell, barbarian”, gasped the first soldier.
“Only after you have kissed the fleeting stead of death, wretch!” returned Grignr.
A sweeping blade of flashing steel riveted from the massive barbarians hide enameled shield as his rippling right arm thrust forth, sending a steel shod blade to the hilt into the soldiers vital organs. The disemboweled mercenary crumpled from his saddle and sank to the clouded sward, sprinkling the parched dust with crimson droplets of escaping life fluid.
You have two choices:
1. Rewrite this excerpt and make it good.
2. Write something worse.
This Tuesday, March 17th, the good people over at the Book Roast blog are having a pitch party.
Five real (albeit anonymous) editors will judge book pitches. There is a 75-word limit, and the pitches can be real or imagined. Do it for fun or do it for real—your choice.
There is also a theme, but I wouldn’t worry about that too much. This is an opportunity to get noticed by professionals, so take it.
Finally, as a Book Roast alum, I encourage you to take a look around the site. Despite its homemade look, the Book Roast people are doing something remarkable, a kind of “open source” publicity where authors of all stripes interact with readers in an online cocktail party setting. Nice.
Thanks to the revised I Help U? tab, there’s been a recent influx of help-seekers. As a result, I’ve been more actively cruising aspiring writer blogs, which reminded me of the following (slightly edited and updated) post from the old Ning site.
A reader writes:
I’m wondering what the consensus is for the writer/bloggers out there about dealing publicly with rejection. I feel like it’s weird to keep blogging about querying and just pretend like rejection doesn’t happen, but then I always hesitate. I don’t want my blog to have a negative vibe, and what if an agent looks at it that day and sees “received another rejection today”?
The first decision you need to make is whether or not your blog is for your friends or for your career.
If the purpose of your blog is to amuse and inform your friends, then by all means blog away about searching for an agent, querying them, and receiving the inevitable rejection notices.
If the purpose of your blog is to build your audience; however, then you might want to skip talking about the road to publication. And the reason why might not be what you’d expect.
First, you are in no danger of violating the positive-thinking tenets of The Secret. Wonderful things happen to vile, negative people all the time.
Second, an agent isn’t going to see that you’ve been rejected and automatically think, “Hey, I need to reject that person, too!” Any agent worth his or her salt knows how to think for themselves.
No, the reason not to write about the process of getting published is that the process of getting publishing is incredibly boring.
For me, there’s nothing worse than reading a well-crafted, intelligent, funny comment to a post by Moonrat or Nathan Bransford, and then clicking on the writer’s name and having my curiosity punished with ramblings about where they are in their draft, or how they just sent a batch of queries out, or how they’re debating between Conference X and Symposium Y.
I’ve yet to see a single trying-to-get-published post where anything actually happened:
Rejection (and acceptance for that matter) has no drama, no flavor. Even if I’m rooting for you as a person, when I visit your blog I want to be entertained and/or informed. How is writing about the mundania of publishing going to accomplish that?
Exceptions:
1. To my knowledge, no one in our culture currently owns literary rejection. If this is indeed true, then you could become The Most Rejected Writer in the World. You would inhabit the role of the loser, the reject, the pathetic worm who doesn’t even deserve to be read, much less become published.
Your mandate would be to get your ass rejected as many times, and in as many different ways, as humanly possible, and then obsess about it until it almost destroys the rest of your life. You would become a stand-in for our collective disappointment and frustration with the literary world, and we would love you for it.
2. Another option would be to thinly fictionalize the rejection process. Turn your ups and downs into an mock epic battle or a faux mythology or a grandiose fever dream.
Both of these exceptions hinge on your ability to turn the publishing process into something more than it is. If you can transform rejection (as opposed to merely documenting it) then you might be on to something. Otherwise, hit me with something else.
